


Happy Birthday, Sam

by JanuaryVictim



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sex Toys, Trans Male Character, Trans Sam Wilson, Trans Steve Rogers, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 09:17:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11917812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanuaryVictim/pseuds/JanuaryVictim
Summary: Steve convinces Bucky to leave him and Sam alone for the night, so he can give his boyfriend a good birthday present, in the form of a good fuck.Basically plotless birthday sex.





	Happy Birthday, Sam

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags indicate, they're both trans men and they have frontal sex. If the words "lips" or "clit" make you uncomfortable or turn you off I recommend skipping this. Otherwise I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also pls be gentle this is the first thing I've ever posted
> 
> Also I barely gave this a reread so do forgive typos and mistakes :(

Just the day before Sam's birthday, Steve kindly asked Bucky to go hang out with someone, or go to the movies by himself, or to a bar, or across the city for no reason—he offered to pay for it when Bucky scrunched his face up and looked unconvinced. He made it very clear that he really would appreciate it if Bucky stayed out of their apartment most of the night.

“Eh, I dunno,” Bucky said then, rubbing the back of his neck with his single hand.

“Buck,” Steve said, sternly, his big eyes practically pleading behind his glasses as he looked up at his best friend. “Please, I mean it. It’s his birthday.”

“You’re kicking me out of my own apartment so you can fuck your boyfriend,” Bucky said, shaking his head, indignant. “What’s the world come to?”

_“Buck.”_

Bucky laughed and gave Steve a gentle punch on the shoulder. “Fine. But you’re paying for my dinner.”

Relieved, Steve had given Bucky all the money in his wallet—the fabulous amount of $23.50—and had started to walk away when Bucky cleared his throat. 

“You’re also doing my laundry for a month,” Bucky said, stuffing the money in his pocket. 

Steve groaned. “Jesus, fine.”

Bucky shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Honestly, Steve, the lengths you’ll go to get some dick.”

Blushing, Steve threw a cushion at him, and heard him laugh all the way to his room.

So, today, he made sure to take Sam to a nice restaurant for dinner. He’d been saving money for the last month and a half, more or less, just to be sure. The place was no three-Michelin-star restaurant, or anything remotely close to it, but it had a nice, relaxed atmosphere, complete with dimmed lights that Steve thought were romantic, and pretty violin music playing softly over their speakers. The dinner was nice, the dessert was amazing, and he and Sam drank two glasses of wine with their hands laced under the table. Steve had tasted the wine and the cherry sorbet on Sam’s lips when he leaned in to kiss him. 

“You having a good time, babe?” Steve asks as soon as they’re out of the restaurant. 

“Mmm, could be better,” Sam grins, suggestively, and discreetly moves his hand to give Steve’s ass a quick squeeze. 

Steve looks around the street, then decides he doesn’t really care, and pulls Sam down by the lapels of his elegant jacket to kiss him. “You can count on that,” he whispers, and kisses Sam again before letting go and holding his hand to walk down the street. 

When they finally get to Steve’s apartment, he struggles to find his keys—partly because he never remembers in which pocket he puts them, and partly because Sam’s standing behind him, kissing his neck. 

“Sam,” Steve warns, but he feels Sam’s hands on his waist. “Is this your petty revenge?”

“You know it,” Sam says against the side of his neck, and wraps his strong arms around Steve’s waist. He pushes himself up against him, his body pressed flush against Steve’s back, and he smiles to himself when he hears Steve gasping. 

Once they finally make it upstairs, Steve swings open the door to his apartment and lets Sam in. Yesterday, he even managed to do some cleaning around his mess of a place, cleaned up his room as well in anticipation of tonight. So, for once, he’s not embarrassed to have someone look at his living room, because, for once, there’s no wet underwear lying on it to dry and no metric ton of dirty dishes lying around. 

He has every intention of showing Sam around, he really does (he even cleaned up the kitchen, for god’s sake), but as Sam demonstrates by slipping his hands under Steve’s shirt and kissing him, he has no interest in exploring his apartment. Steve replies with an open-mouthed kiss, catching Sam’s tongue in his mouth. He can feel his face start to burn bright red as they take slow steps further into the apartment, heading towards the small hallway; he slips his hands under Sam’s jacket and clumsily slips it off his shoulders. He smiles against Sam’s lips as he shrugs it off and leaves it right there on the floor. 

Sam lets out a sound against Steve’s lips, and does the same with his fake leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor in the middle of the hallway. 

“God, Steve,” Sam murmurs, his hands sliding underneath Steve’s button-up shirt, stroking the soft skin of his belly and the thin line of hair under his navel. “I _want_ you.” 

Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he feels himself get a little flustered (and more than a little hard). He’s still not used to hearing Sam say that, he’s still not used to hearing praise from Sam—but he loves it, he can feel every one of his words causing a direct and tangible reaction in his body, and he also loves how it’s always as exciting as the first time. 

He guides Sam to his bedroom, opens the door with Sam’s lips pressed against the side of his neck and lets out a gasp when he feels his teeth on his skin; he closes the door once they’re inside, and stops walking. He breaks the kiss and holds a finger up, signalling for Sam to give him a moment. 

Cocking his head to the side, Sam can feel his lips stretching into a smile as he watches Steve, the tiny thing that he is, kneel down in front of his chest drawer and fumble with whatever is inside the bottom one. Just to tease, he clears his throat unnecessarily loud. 

“Steve, I came here hoping you would fuck me instead of organising your drawer,” he says in a deadpan tone. 

“You’re so impatient,” Steve says. He turns to look up at Sam, a mischievous smile on his face. “Close your eyes.”

Sam narrows them, suspicious, but still smiling. He sighs, and complies. Patiently, he waits for Steve to take those steps towards him, and he feels Steve’s hand on his hip. He feels Steve press a chaste kiss to his lips—which, theoretically, shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. 

“Remember what you were telling me that night we ended up uh… texting things?” Steve says, his voice deep and maybe a little insecure. 

Of course Sam remembers—he got off in less than ten minutes talking to Steve about wanting to feel his hands on him. “Sure do,” he says. 

“Well that got me thinking, and I figured we should do something special for your birthday,” Steve says, almost coyly, and takes Sam’s hand to place the heavy object on it. 

Sam immediately guesses it’s a vibrator. When Steve asks him to open his eyes, he grins. He grabs Steve’s jaw and kisses him, a deep, eager, anxious kiss, and Steve responds by pulling their bodies together, his hands squeezing his ass. 

Breathless, they break the kiss, and, just like the first time, Steve pushes Sam on the bed and straddles his hips, pulling him up to practically rip off his fancy shirt. He throws it to the side and immediately presses his hands to Sam’s hard pecs, his thumbs teasing his nipples as he rocks his hips against Sam. He can feel Sam’s fingertips digging into his hips, and he lets Sam unbutton and remove his shirt, leaving him in only his binder and his fanciest jeans. 

“I want you so bad, Sam,” Steve mumbles in between kisses, frantically trying to touch every part of Sam he can reach—his chest, his shoulders, his belly. “Fuck,” he sighs, feeling himself throbbing when Sam squeezes his inner thighs. 

It feels almost painful to break the kiss and move away from Sam to remove his jeans, his shoes, and his socks, and to let Sam to the same. He comforts himself by letting his eyes wander all over Sam’s body, over his thick thighs and his strong arms, his soft belly and the happy trail under his navel. When Sam slips his fingers inside his tight briefs, Steve quickly moves to stop him. Without saying a word, he kneels on the floor in front of him, fully naked except for the binder, and hooks his fingers on the waist of the underwear. 

Almost tenderly, Sam runs his fingers through Steve’s soft, blond hair, and he takes off his glasses and stretches to leave them on top of his bedside table. He looks down at Steve and takes a deep breath—Steve’s eyes are closed, and his face is pressed to the front of his briefs. It sends a rush of blood straight through his body, the way Steve breathes him in and strokes the front of his thighs, as if he were still marvelling at having Sam all to himself. Maybe he does. 

Steve presses a line of kisses to the fronts of Sam’s thighs, his fingers tracing soft lines on the backs of them; he takes his time, against what his body is screaming at him to do, because he wants to make Sam feel special on his day. Slowly, he pulls his briefs down and lets out a quiet gasp at the sight of him, closing his eyes and feeling something run through him that can only be described as “hunger.” He wants Sam so bad it aches; he wants to worship every inch of him with his lips and his tongue and his hands, he wants to make Sam moan and to drink in every sound. He feels almost dizzy, trying with every ounce of his willpower to control himself. But Sam’s smell is intoxicating, almost as much as his taste, almost as much as the sounds of his pleasure, and before he can hold back, he lets out a moan against Sam’s inner thigh. 

He takes his time kissing and softly pushing his tongue against Sam’s thighs, against his lower belly; stroking everything from his waist to his ass, humming his appreciation as Sam caresses his hair. 

“Steve,” Sam moans, his hand finding the hard line of his jaw. He makes Steve look up at him and rubs his thumb against the edge of his jaw; he’s hard and wet and eager for Steve’s touch already, and he really doesn’t want Steve to keep teasing him anymore. And hell, it is his birthday, after all. “Come on,” he sighs. 

Steve understands. Sam moans, watching him lick his lips in the most lascivious way; and he moans again when Steve presses his lips to him, around him, to let his tongue give him an experimental stroke. Steve’s hands are pressed against his thighs, and he angles his neck to reach all the right spots between Sam’s legs. He takes his time, licking him and stroking him and sucking him in just enough to tease Sam but nowhere near enough his release. He takes his time, touching his thighs and the inside of his knees, his ass and his belly. 

The way Steve massages him with his tongue, tortuously slow, just hard enough, absolutely delicious, makes Sam thank whatever god exists for whoever taught this to him. It also makes him wish there was something he could lean back against, and for the sake of it, he brushes Steve’s hair back, moaning perhaps a little louder than he’s comfortable with. Steve lets his tongue delve inside him, and his nose presses against the hardness of his clit, and Sam practically cries out. 

“Steve, fuck,” he moans, feeling every drop of blood in his body concentrated right where Steve is touching him, feeling his knees weak and his brow covered in sweat. “God damn, Steve, you’re so good, fuck,” he involuntarily rocks his hips forward and accidentally pulls a little too hard at Steve’s hair, making him whine against him. 

“You close?” Steve asks breathlessly, moving his face away from Sam just enough to speak, looking up at him with those big blue eyes, and letting his fingers continue to do the teasing. 

“Fuck, yes,” Sam sighs, breathing hard. 

And Steve stops. 

Smirking like the little shit he is, he stands up and pulls Sam down into a bruising kiss where Sam can taste himself. Steve guides him to the bed, then instructs him to sit on it with a casual confidence in his voice that Sam is sure he’s never heard outside of the bedroom. 

Without missing a beat, Sam does as told: he leans back when Steve tells him to, he spreads his legs when Steve tells him to; and he feels so close that he’s sure he’ll dissolve into a mess of cries and sobs as soon as Steve touches him again. Since Steve seems to be aware of this, he straddles Sam’s thigh and kisses him again; he grabs a small bottle of lube and squirts a good amount on his fingers, and he teases Sam—he runs his fingers up and down his outer lips without coming close to touching him where Sam wants—needs—him to, and without making any attempt at pushing his fingers inside him. Sam is breathing hard and his eyes are closed, and he’s sure there’s something silly in how concentrated his frown must look when he’s not doing anything but let himself be touched the way Steve wants, as much as Steve wants. 

Steve squirts some lube directly on Sam, making him gasp at the coolness of it. When Sam opens his eyes, Steve is watching him, smirking, and he licks his lips as soon as his eyes meet Sam’s. 

“I gotta warn you,” Steve says, straightening his back to peel off his binder. “I’ve only ever used these things on me,” he says, as if Sam cared, and grabs the big, white vibrator. “So let me know how it feels.”

Sam just nods—he really can’t even make himself speak. 

Without turning it on, Steve presses the soft, round tip of the vibrator against Sam, traces a circle around him, and keeps his eyes on Sam’s face as he closes his eyes again and dips his head back ever so slightly. He teases Sam’s lubed-up entrance with it, pushes it in just enough to make Sam spread his thighs a little more and sigh. As he pulls it out, he pushes the button at the base, to the lowest setting, and angles it just enough to touch the base of Sam’s clit. 

Sam lets out a delicious, quiet moan, his eyes still closed, and Steve feels his heart skip a beat when Sam licks his lips. Steve rocks the head of the vibrator back and forth, slowly, and feels a rush of blood shoot through him when Sam parts his lips and gasps his name. 

“Talk to me, Sam,” Steve says in a strangely calm, deep voice. 

“Harder,” Sam sighs, and opens his eyes to pull Steve into a kiss, his hand firmly planted on the back of Steve’s skinny neck. He doesn’t let go as Steve pushes the button again and the vibrations speed up—instead, he continues kissing Steve, biting his pretty, pink lips and letting out sounds against them. Almost involuntarily, he rocks his hips in tune with Steve’s motions, speeding up just a little every time. 

He can feel Steve almost grinding against his thigh, and he reaches down to give the side of his hip a squeeze. “Steve,” he practically whines. “Steve, hang on.”

Steve turns it off immediately, which makes Sam whine at the lack of friction. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

“Yes, just—“ Sam peeks down between them, and reaches down to hold the head of the vibrator against him. “Think you can get on it too?”

Steve’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth for a second—because, really, he hadn’t even thought anything beyond making Sam come. The thought of what Sam suggests almost makes him moan, though, and he gives him another smirk. “I can try.”

He gets Sam to push his thighs together so that he can straddle them at the right angle, and he lubes himself up as quickly as he can, blissfully unaware of the little show he’s just put up for Sam; he moves the vibrator around and, after a minute, he can press it against himself as well. He looks down at Sam and waits until he nods to push the button and turn it back on, and when he does—he lets out an embarrassing sound, almost shocked, a little choked up, and his hips buck forward instantly. 

“Harder,” Sam moans again, and again after just a moment; and he reaches down to hold the base of the vibrator so that Steve can hold himself up by putting his hands on his pecs and dig his fingers into his tattooed skin. 

Sam rocks his hips up and moves the vibrator against them both, following the pace of Steve’s gasps and sounds, stroking the two of them as it vibrates. He pushes the button again to up the speed and he can feel Steve’s thighs tensing around him. Indelicately, he pulls him down into a wet, sloppy kiss—which Steve breaks after a moment to let out a deep, loud moan. 

“Sam, fuck,” he whines, helplessly rocking his hips against the motions of the vibrator, and he straightens up, then leans back and holds himself on Sam’s knees to get a better angle. 

Sam lets out a loud curse, the sight of Steve almost too much to bear, and he speeds up. The base of the vibrator is almost slipping with the mess they’ve made between them, but he grips it tight and lets Steve grind against it as he pushes it harder against himself. 

“Ah—ah, ah, Sam, _Sam,_ ” Steve half moans and half gasps, and he grabs Sam’s wrist almost too hard as he comes. He rocks his hips against the vibrator, and his knees shake as he rides out his orgasm. 

Without giving himself time to breathe, he leans forward and kisses Sam, hard, for a second, biting his lip; and he almost rudely takes the vibrator from his hand and moves to let Sam spread his legs again. He slips half of it inside Sam, making him gasp and cry out, and he fucks him with it for a good two minutes before Sam is practically writhing under him, his teeth gritted and his hands gripping the sheets. 

Sam lets out a string of words as he reaches down to grab Steve’s wrist—various combinations of “fuck,” “shit,” “Steve,” and “please.” 

Steve obliges him, and presses the head of the vibrator against him, wet and hard as he is, and he traces circles around him, rubs him up and down and presses into him until Sam is crying out his name. From where he’s kneeling, Steve can see Sam’s thighs spasm, and the muscles in his belly contract as he comes, loudly and shamelessly, as if Steve had absolutely not a single neighbour to worry about. It almost gets him going again. 

Sam reaches up to hold Steve’s neck and brings him down to kiss him; Steve carelessly throws the vibrator to the other side of the bed and returns the kiss, his fingers brushing Sam’s hair. He strokes the back of Sam’s neck almost tenderly, and lets a hand rest over his chest, feeling his overly-excited heart right under his palm. He smiles against Sam’s kiss, and feels Sam’s hands on his waist, giving a soft squeeze. 

“Hey,” Steve practically whispers once Sam’s breathing has slowed down. 

“Hm?”

“Happy birthday,” he says, and kisses the tip of Sam’s nose. 

Sam laughs, and jokingly pushes his face away. “You have no business doing cute shit after what you just did to me.”

Steve being Steve, takes this to mean that he should kiss Sam all over his face, which is what he does. He kisses his cheeks, forehead, nose, jaw, practically every space over and over until Sam is practically cackling and trying to push him away. Which makes Steve start laughing, too. 

“I love you,” Sam says once his laughter has died down. 

Steve smiles, his chin pressed to his chest, and his entire body blushing. He leans back on the bed and pulls Sam on top of him, wrapping his skinny arms around him. “Yeah, I guess you’re okay too,” he says, his eyes burning with adoration when he looks down at Sam. 

Sam rolls his eyes, a giant smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is kind of a second part of a still unpublished fic written for the Sam Wilson Birthday Bang. I will link to it as soon as it is up.


End file.
